


'Luke'

by Forbiddenmichael



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Ashton Irwin - Freeform, Calum Hood - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Luke Hemmings - Freeform, Michael Clifford - Freeform, They are in the band, a bit with luke at the begining, about a thing or too, and mikeys a bit whiney, and more fluffff, and pining, as if you are him, but in a realllllly cute way, but not in it eek sorry, cal and ash are mentioned, he is so cute, he tells you a thing or two, hella lot of pining, i want to see mikey like thi s, michael thinks you luke, oh and luek likes penguins, then talks to you, this is about you - Freeform, you are the girl in this so yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 14:28:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4749800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forbiddenmichael/pseuds/Forbiddenmichael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You hoped he hadn’t seen it. Michael’s breathing was still louder in your ears than it would have been if your heart wasn’t beating faster. Why it was beating faster you didn’t know. Sure, you were in Luke and Michael’s room with an intoxicated Michael, and sure he thought you were Luke but it’s not like you didn’t tell him you were there.<br/>You remembered the conversation from the earlier in the day. Luke had asked if he could have your single room and you bunk with Michael tonight. Had he not told Michael, you thought.</p><p>or Michael thinks that its just his usual band mate bunking in his room and doesn't realises that hes confessing everything until it might have ruined, well, everything</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Luke'

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda really really like this one?? maybe you kinda do too...?

When there was a timid and barely audible knock after a show one night, to say you were surprised to see Luke shuffling his feet behind it, was a shock. Ashton awkwardly asking for a hair tie since he had lost the copious amount that you had given him, to tie back his stringy hair in a bun, or Calum pouting with his full bottom lip poking out until you let him borrow your hair spray, to give him his ‘I’m not trying too hard and my hair always looks this fabulous and ruffled’ wouldn’t have caused you to bat and eyelid. But Luke with pink tinged cheek bones and down cast eyes was something you weren’t expecting. The way he was twiddling his foot underneath him and his hands fisted awkwardly at his sides almost had you laughing, but you choked it back and managed to keep the laughing to a mere scoff. He looked up with slightly twitchy eyes and seemed to steal his breath before mumbling out all at once some reason or another as why he could, maybe, hopefully, please please please with a cherry on top, have your room for the night. His reasons were lost within the drabbled of his dragged out speech, but once you’d heard it was because he didn’t want to kick an ‘Xbox immersed’ Michael out of his room, he wanted some ‘privacy’ and he would be going out to a club with Ashton and Calum before hand, you shut off about the tiny deletes. What Luke wanted to do behind closed doors at possibly 3am was his business.

Luke thanked you with twinkling eyes, once you’d agreed without question, and you’d closed the door on his beaming smile and slightly dorky hand wave, and then began gathering your stuff together. When the boys went on tour there was always the Cashton room, the Muke room and your single room. It was lonely at times when you would wake up to silence that seemed to echo around the four walls, but also a reprise from the utter mess and destruction of the tour bus or any other place all four of the boys inhabited. So to be able to wake up in the same room as someone, where their breathing- or in Michael’s case, tapping of a keyboard or controller buttons- would be somewhat soothing. Michael would have been asked to join his friends, he always was, but also like always he turned down the offer. Opting for his virtually world and callouses on his thumbs from the joysticks of a controller not from the stiff strings of his guitar.

So when the time of the night rolled across, when the sunlight finally dipped its head below the horizon and night reared its body, casting shadows on those lurking in wait for its cloak of darkness, you picked up the small duffel bag by the door and headed down the white washed corridor to the room you would be spending the night in. The door to the room was at the bottom of the corridor, it was white, or as white as it could be when it was at the bottom of a corridor of a mediocre hotel. The paint was peeling off it slightly, yellowing and revealing an even more decaying colour underneath. It was surprising that the little curls were still there, and that Ashton, the neat freak that he was, hadn’t stood outside the door picking of the unravelling paint with his blunt fingernails when he was meant to be telling Michael and Luke to get ready for the upcoming show. You raised your hands to the door, ready to rap on a piece of the wood that wasn’t barring jagged bits of paint when you realised it was slightly agar. Typical Michael, leaving the door open and risking any burglar, or more likely fan girl bursting into his room once they found out that he and Luke were inside, because he couldn’t be bothered to open the door. There had been a time where you’d let Luke borrow a styling brush for his hair and he’d forgotten to bring it back, so you had made your way to the ‘Muke room’ yourself. Unfortunately, Luke was out, and Michael too engrossed in an intense game of World of Warcraft or something equally Michael-ish to answer the door. He made you wait outside the door with varying degrees of annoyance then anger until he had finished the game, a good half an hour you’d spent plotting his death. To say you hadn’t spoken to him for the next week wasn’t a lie. Ever since then when he knew you were coming over he would just leave the door open so you could let yourself in. Rolling your eyes at how much of a gaming freak- not that you weren’t partial to a good Xbox game yourself- Michael was, you pushed the door open. Immediately you were hit with the smell of aftershave, and too much hair spray. Luke must have already gone out you thought, and those thoughts were confirmed when you saw the absence of Luke’s vans which were normally strewn in front of the hotel door. But Michael’s combat boots were also missing. Dodging around discarded socks and what you hoped were empty pizza boxes- there had been many times when catering had to be called because of a severe case of mouldy pizza had stunk out a room- you made your way to the bedroom.

Two single beds were pushed with their headboards up against the back wall; there was a low resting bed side table between them littered with empty chocolate bar wrappers, and a crushed energy drink can. Between the two beds were an assortment of black clothes, mostly band tees and a controller sat unused on what you assumed was Michael’s bed. You thought it was Michael’s as it was the messiest, and seemed to have the biggest amount of inconspicuous crumbs littering the unmade surface. You grimaced and tried not to go full mum on the owner, but luckily for him, he wasn’t in the room. Unusually Michael’s leather jacket wasn’t hung off the edge of the headboard like it normally was so you assumed he had just popped out for pizza. Well you hoped he had as pizza sounded quite good right now.

Luckily, Luke wasn’t as messy as Michael when it came to basic hygiene, and his bed was made and clothes, unidentified wrappers and food were removed from it. Probably for your benefit, as he knew how much you hated Michael’s disregard for preventable germs. Luke’s oversized stuffed penguin was also removed from the bed, Luke could never be parted from that penguin, it was ridiculous but also quiet endearing. So you chucked your overnight bag onto the floor, hoping as it was Luke side of the room that he hadn’t deposited anything onto the floor there that you bag would be covered in and flopped onto the bed. It smelled of Luke, hair gel and citrusy smelling shower wash. It was different to Michael, who smelled of something warm that left a similar feeling to the taste of mulled wine in your stomach when you breathed it in, fuzzy and warming. His smell was homely and filled your senses and why were you even thinking about this, you thought. 

Even so, you pushed the covers back, but before shuffling your legs under them you swapped Luke’s pillow with Michaels. It reminded you of home, you reasoned with yourself as you wrapped the covers around yourself and buried your face into the new pillow. It was cold, meaning Michael hadn’t been lying on it recently, hopefully he would be back soon you thought, but the warm feeling in the pit of your stomach was still there as his scent travelled and curled around you. I’ll just wait here for a bit, you told yourself, I’m just cold so am wrapped up in bed to keep warm, you continued. But you didn’t need an excuse really; Michael always sat curled in his duvet whilst playing online. Where he was, you didn’t know, but you hoped he would be back soon. He never went out with the other boys and get drunk beyond recognition like they did. Why would he change this time? 

If you would have looked to the floor next to your bed you would have noticed something on the floor. There was about an arm’s length between the side of the bed and the wall and this space was bare apart from a warm pizza box on the floor. Now it was crushed underneath the bag you had dumped on it, but if you had look you would have seen a note from Luke. So as the oily, cheesiness of the pizza soaked into the bottom of the bag and into the paper of the note, it blurred the ink that had marked it. “Hi Y/N,” had been scrawled across it, in messy, childlike handwriting that you would have known anywhere belonged to Luke, “Ash, Cal and I went out to a club as I said. Mikey didn’t want to come but he text me saying he was going to this gaming arcade thingy here so for me not to wait up. He left his phone in the bathroom once he left. And he was gone before I could tell him you were bunking over tonight. Sorry I didn’t tell you/him earlier, but here enjoy the pepperoni goodness of this pizza and don’t mess with Michael’s Xbox if you don’t want to die. Haha, see ya. Luke (+pengy ) “. But you didn’t look at the floor, and you didn’t take more care when you through your bag down, and you didn’t realise that it was Michael nice jacket that he wore when he was going somewhere and he wanted to look good was gone, and you didn’t do anything but close your eyes unintentionally with thoughts of lazy days with Michael running uncensored through your mind. 

 *** 

“Luke” Michael groaned as he threw himself on the adjacent bed to yours- the bed creaked and the springs shrieked in protest as his heavy 6 foot something frame hit the bed- in the mediocre-rated hotel room. You were swaddled up and had been fast asleep within the warm cocoon of your duvet, before your slightly more than tipsy best friend stumbled through the door, to the two person room. The warm state of having just fallen asleep which had previous cradled you in its warm arms, now clawed at you with malicious intent, scratching and biting at you to remain trapped in its arms. Your eyes fluttered as you tried to remain awake. The duvet felt like a cage and you mumbled and grumbled, trying to break its tightly bound bond, in a way that must have sounds something resembling Luke since Michael didn’t question it. He would have done, normally, if he had known it was in fact a girl, and more specifically you, that was engulfed in the scent of his best friend, that lingered on the bed linen. 

Fighting and winning the demons that dragged you back to sleep, you opened your eyes fully. Staying under the covers, keeping your faced turned to the opposite wall and hoping your hair wasn’t fanning out to much above you head, you listened to Michael’s heavy breathing from the other side of the room. Luke may have had longish hair, but he wasn’t a girl (or Ashton) with freakishly long flowing hair, so Michael would have known that it was some else there if your hair was sticking out. Or if he could see your evidently girlish face. You hoped he hadn’t seen it. Michael’s breathing was still louder in your ears than it would have been if your heart wasn’t beating faster. Why it was beating faster you didn’t know. Sure, you were in Luke and Michael’s room with an intoxicated Michael, and sure he thought you were Luke but it’s not like you didn’t tell him you were there.  
You remembered the conversation from the earlier in the day. Luke had asked if he could have your single room and you bunk with Michael tonight. Had he not told Michael, you thought. 

“She looked so perfect today” he gushed. Okay, this was a new advancement; you didn’t know Michael liked anyone, even slightly. “The way she doesn’t even have to try and it makes me just want to grab her and tell her everything. God, it’s so hard Luke” he sounded like he was whining at the end. So is that where he had been all this time, seeing this mysterious girl and pinning over her. You pushed down the burning feeling in the pit of your stomach with a strong inhale of Michael’s smell from the cushion. It calmed you and you smiled. Then Michael carried on talking. “I know I can’t say anything about the way I feel because I can’t lose her, she’s so special and everything I want but I can’t have. She’s too precious, too much of everything that everyone else wants. She’s just, god, she’s everything. Why would she pick me anyway? It’s not like I’ve got anything she would possibly want, she already has everything, so she needs someone who can give her even more. I don’t have that, but like hell do I wish I did. God. Why does being in love have to be so hard. ‘cos god do I love her. I’m so in love with her it actually hurts.” As Michael’s voice filled your head, albeit muffled from him speaking into the bedspread, the words turning into a swarm of angry bees that crashed around your skull, you felt the corners of your vision blur. It blackened around the edges and tunnelled onto a single point of peeling wallpaper on the wall. Michael was completely in love with someone, someone who even though in moments of weakness whilst alone in the bunk of the tour bus, when Michael was sleeping above you and all you could here was his breathing, you’d wished was you, was in fact, not you. Someone who even though you were one of Michael best friends he had failed to mention. You felt a stab of hatred for this girl, she had made Michael so flushed and feel unworthy of her, it nipped at the back of your mind with sharp teeth. If anything, this seemingly wonderful girl would never be worthy of Michael. He was too bright and vibrant to be tied down by someone who had everything, as Michael described her. And the fact that Michael was in love with said girl, was something that at this time you pushed away. It could be something you would cry yourself to sleep over, under the guise of being home sick, another time. 

“Mate, are you even listening? Are you actually awake?” he grumbled. The sound of ruffling and what sounded like a zipper being undone could be heard, before the deflation of the mattress as he laid down again. Potentially with less clothes on this time. You grunted, hoping it sounded like a grunt anyway. It seemed to pacify Michael, but he sighed anyway before there was more shuffling as he got comfortable. Then all was silent. Silent to anyone else anyway, because in your head it felt like a hundred people were all speaking at once, as each and every single one of Michael’s words tumbled around, knocking down walls and barriers you had built up against this type of hurt as if they were mere piece of taunt paper. But before the crashing of your heart, could lull you into a fitful sleep Michael spoke again. “Luke,” he muttered, obviously just on the edge of sleep as well. “What sounds best Y/N and Michael, or Michael and Y/N?”. And that was when the cliff of sleep fell away from you. Only leaving a cavern of nothingness and leaving you very much wide away. Your stomach pitched and fell and you bolted upright.  
“Luke?” he asked, sounding more awake this time. You turned to face him, your hair falling in front of your cheeks and barley avoiding your eyes. Michael looked at your from where he laid down on his side, and his green eyes locked onto yours. His eyes widened and he slowly sat up. His red, plump, lower lip was quivering, and his deep eyes were flitting around the room as if looking for a way out. His dyed hair was stuck up on one side and flat on the other where he had been lying on it, he looked silly and cute and lost and more importantly absolutely distraught. You took all of this in, with the duvet bunched around your waist from where it had fallen down when you sat up, and thought about how someone couldn’t get more perfect. Michael crossed his legs in front on him so he was facing you, but then he tilted his head upwards to the ceiling. It was spotted with those bumps that you could see patterns in if you looked hard enough. The air was flushing hot and fast out of Michael’s nose as he breathed quickly and erratically, he looked up and tried not to cry. His world was crashing down, whilst your heart was soaring high. This all happened in the briefest of minutes, the smallest blink of an eye. 

“I’m sorry” Michael said with emotion thick in his tone, and the same time as you said “Mikey…”. He looked down, dropping his gaze from the dimpled ceiling to you. His bright green eyes were glassy and somewhat dull. “Don’t Y/N,” he croaked, raising his hand up to enforce his point. The hurt in his eyes took your breath away before it was gone as he closed his eyes. A small tear dropped from his golden eyelashes to the light coloured bed cover. It was only the slightest drop of water, clear and feather light, but it held the weight of a thousand words and broke your heart as much as a hammer would have done. It was the first tear and it pained you to see it fall more than it did Michael to let it. “You don’t need to say anything” he mumbled, the tear had fallen and the previous words had tumbled out, but now Michael was retreating into himself. “I know” he finished, and this time his voice broke at the end and your head was spinning, and Michael was crying and your heart was breaking. 

So, almost as if on autopilot, without saying anything, you placed a hand on the duvet and lifted it off you. Michael sat now still crossed legged watching your every move, before dropping his face into his small palms. They covered half of his face, and blocked your view of his green eyes which had started to water again. Your feet hit the soft, black-clothes-littered floor with a small thud, and Michael didn’t even look up. You would have said that he didn’t blink an eye, but seeing as he was balling into his hands you couldn’t actually see his eyes. Taking two steps across the small distance between the two beds, your knees hit the edge, the bed didn’t shudder from the slight impact and only bounced slightly as Michael’s shoulders raised and fell as he cried. Before Michael could look up, you lifted a leg off the floor and you placed one knee on the side of his thigh, and the other on his other side and you sat on his lap. Michael didn’t know what you were doing until you dropped your weight onto his crossed legs, but when he felt the pressure there he seemed to relax, but also coil up with so much pent up emotion he looked like he was going to explode. His body wracked with sobs and the heels of his palms dug into his eyes, something you knew would bring bright swirling patterns behind his eyes. The jerking of his body seamed uncontrollable, and it rocked you as you sat there. You reached up with small hands to his own pale, nail bitten, hands which were covering his face, prising them away from his ghostly pale skin, and as you removed them you noticed that they were trembling. They were shaking with the fingers twitching, almost comparable to the way his fingers twitched once he’d stayed up to late clicking away on a computer game after one too many red bulls. You gripped his wrist, feeling his pulse against the pads of your fingers, before lowering his hands to rest of your waist. He left them there but the trembling didn’t stop, you hardly felt any pressure because he was really holding your side, just putting his hands as close to them as possible whilst his hands fluttered like the trapped wings of a bird. His red lower lip was pulled in by his teeth, and his eyelashes were darker from the wetness of his tears. The skin along the tracks of his tears was almost translucent and his eyes were wet and glassy. 

“I don’t have to say anything” you whispered to him, picking up on what you said earlier. Inching forwards, Michael’s hands stay at your sides, touching with more pressure this time, but it still increased then decreased when his hands shook, you ghosted your lips over his. Not touching, but if you moved forward just that tiny bit… Michael’s breath hitched in the back of his throat, the air that both of you had been breathing shuddering when he sucking in a breath. Then the smallest of whimpers fell from the back of his throat, high and whiney and so so desperate. His hands weren’t shaking anymore and now he was gripping your sides like you were a life line. He wasn’t holding hard enough to bruise but he may as well have been. The vibrations of the whine rippled through the air, heightening your senses and you flicked your eyes from his parted lips- of which air was being sucked into at such a fast pace- to his closed eyes. The skin of his eyelids was softer and more delicate, if anything lighter than his already powder white complexion and the deep dark black of his eyelashes splayed out from this fair skin, onto the high dusted pink of his cheek bones. You leaned back, only slightly and rested your forehead on his. His eyebrows furrowed and you felt his forehead crease when he did. The curve of his nose aligned with yours, soft arches swooping down to the ends. But as you memorised and engrained every slight indent and curve of his face, he murmured “Y/N, please” it was high and almost demanding, but with no heat behind it. His tone was as light as a feather and it fell out of his mouth just as lighter as a feather would have done. And you gave in. 

Pulling your forehead back, at the same time as pushing your lips forward. Your lips pressed together and that was it to begin with. Just the pressure of both of you mouths against each other’s before a seemingly uncontrolled hand of yours, which had previously been resting on the top of Michael’s leg conspicuously, reached up to the back of his neck. Simply placing your fingers there, fingerprints feeling the soft skin, he kissed you. Soft and delicate movements, only a small difference between the pressures alone of his lips on yours. His jaw didn’t move awkwardly and jauntily as he opened his mouth and he didn’t enthusiastically lap at your bottom lip, just slowly, ever so slowly, slotted his lips between, and then not in-between, and then between yours again and again. It was wonderful, euphoric and without meaning to your fingers laced in the back of his hair. You didn’t tug or pull, just rested it there and let your sense fill up and rush over you. The erratic beating of your heart didn’t quite feel loud enough in the silence of the room, but you needed to breathe. Michael pulled away, resting his forehead again on yours, but he didn’t open his eyes. His lips were as red as yours, not raw and kiss bitten, just the right shade only minutely darker than they had been before, but that was okay. When he kissed you it was like he was breathing your air, stealing what life your limp body had when you slumped against him before returning it all to you with the parting of lips. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that”. His voice seamed scratchy, as if he had just woken up and his eyelashes fluttered. The close proximity caused his words that he exhaled to tickle your lips. “Well do it again”, your lips brushed against his like his had yours. He squeezed your sides, ever so lightly, and a smile tugged at his lips, just the corners pulled up and you felt it against your cheeks. His cheeks were hot with the smile and then he fluttered his eyes open. 

The piercing green was unnerving. So deep, and vivid and in contrast to his ebony coloured eyelashes, and pale, pale skin, that you felt almost in awe of him. You could have sworn you saw flecks of the slightest gold in his eyes, but they fluttered shut and he kissed you again. And again. And again.


End file.
